How Not To Wear a Scarf
by erbby17
Summary: England learns a valuable lesson on how to wear a scarf. Or, more accurately, how NOT to wear a scarf. Random-scarf!kink Russia/England ahead. M for sexual content. ENJOY!


_A/N: There is only one explanation for this oneshot - there needs to be more love for this pairing._

_Disclaimer: Himaruya owns them! Russia owns the scarf. Not mine! Also, this simple-kink fic could probably be written with any Russia/[insert nation here] pairing, but I think it's more suitable for England to be stupid enough to...well, please read. WARNING: Oral sex ahead. ;D_

_~*~*~*~_

A soft tune about peddlers was dancing from the kitchen, and Arthur walked in to notice Ivan preparing breakfast. He smiled, flattered by this gesture on _the morning after_. "Are you making breakfast for me," he said coyly, walking closer towards the taller nation to get a glimpse of the menu.

Ivan smiled, turning his head to greet his comrade-of-the-night, but once his eyes scanned Arthur's body, the look on his face become one not familiar to this Earth. "Arthur," Ivan started to say in a slow drawl, "what is that you are wearing?"

The tone alone sent a shiver down Englishman's spine, the addition of that chilling lilac glare making Arthur regret ever coming out of the bedroom in his current state. He looked down at his spur-of-the-moment attire: an ivory scarf wrapped around his bare hips and nothing more. "Well, you see, Ivan, there was…um, I couldn't locate my clothes, you see, and this was, um…"

He swallowed thickly, now lamenting the words fumbling out from his mouth. One glance up at the Russian told him that no, that wasn't a good enough excuse.

"You are wearing my scarf, Arthur," Ivan said, slowly advancing from his spot beside the kitchen counter, "like a loincloth, but it is a scarf."

Arthur stumbled back, a small whimper peaking past quivering lips. "Now, Ivan, it's…it's just temporary. I promise, I'll take it off once I find my…"

"No, you are not to touch it," he said with an indecipherable smile, his nose mere inches from Arthur's face. "Although, I do wish to wear it."

"Th-then, let me just…"

Ivan's sudden grip was firm on Arthur's wrists, slowly moving them from further advancing towards the article in question. "I said no touching," he whispered in that childlike voice, his eyes telling a different story. "I will put it on myself."

Arthur should have never blinked, for the second he did, Ivan's head was down at his knees and Arthur feared for the following events. "Wait, Ivan what are you," he started to say before squealing at the brush of hair against his thighs. "Ivan!!!"

Biting his lip, he could feel Ivan's nose trace along his thigh, his pelvis; the light beats of breathing tickling his sensitive areas once covered by the scarf. Ivan's head was wedged in that tight spot between flesh and cloth. "Ivan, I don't like where this is going…"

"Hmm? What do you mean, Arthur? I'm just putting on my scarf," he said matter-of-factly, the scarf's tie loosening around Arthur's hips.

The subtle movements from Ivan's head tickled Arthur in all the wrong ways, the tiniest hint of pleasure trembling in his groin. "I hope that's all you have planned down there, Ivan…"

Ivan's violet orbs widened, the curiosity in his pupils nearly contagious. His eyes flashed down briefly before glancing back up, all the traces of childlike wonder fluttering away to reveal pure mischief. "Your mind is very dirty, Arthur," he said thickly, squirming in his wedge to give his head more room to explore, his eyes directly meeting a fresh erection. "Your body is, too. You thought it was a good idea to wear my scarf over such a filthy thing?"

Arthur knew those harsh words were Ivan's form of _sweet nothings_, his twisted sense of thought so easily understood by a man who once dabbled in the dark arts. Regardless, he found it difficult to answer, the gentlest of breaths snaking up and down his trembling member, his body eager for the end of this. And although Ivan's tongue was warm, it felt icy and frigid against the searing heat of Arthur's body. He gasped, that surprisingly delicate tongue scaling the small hills of veins and flesh, lapping up a stream of fluid before licking the Russian's lips.

"My dear sister gave this scarf to me, Arthur," he said, letting the substance drip down his chin. Lightly placing a moist kiss on the Briton's lower tummy, Ivan's smirk reeked of devilish intrigue. "I wonder what she would think about you wearing it in such a manner."

"Ivan, please, I didn't mean…"

Warm lips tight around his head sent a moaning gasp to interrupt Arthur's words, his body falling weak to pleasure and tumbling backwards to the floor. Ivan's hands took the advantage, roaming up and around calves and thighs to clasp a hold on squirming hips. Arthur could barely resist the incredible strength, let alone the searing pleasure running through his very being.

Arthur's body squirmed on the ground, like a fish, long since gasping for breath, on its last thread of hope for water. Ivan knew how to perform this act all too well, especially on a body explored thoroughly the previous night.

Reaching down, Arthur's twitching fingers managed to reach ivory hairs, gripping for anchor; the Briton caught his mistake the second Ivan's mouth broke from its seize on Arthur's cock.

"No. Touching," Ivan scolded, his eyes glaring up past Arthur's wrists once again bound in his grip, before a thin smirk crept its way back to his lips. "You cannot stop misbehaving, can you?"

A stinging shiver slid across every pore of Arthur's flesh, his eyes tearing from mixed emotions of fear and pleasure. His lip twitching, he tried to open his mouth, to squeak out a reply, but the long pause brought Ivan's mouth back upon his erection, a hoarse cry seeping out with spittle.

One hand on Arthur's wrists, the other gently tracing circles over his hip, Ivan kept busy with _putting on his scarf_, his head bobbing gently between cloth and flesh. And with every swivel of his head, the tie holding the scarf around Arthur's hips loosened until it was completely unraveled and draping across Ivan's neck. Fingers dug deep into flesh, his rough hands lifting up the shaking frame below his mouth which continued its sucking, its nipping, and its kissing on Arthur's impatient erection.

Arthur could barely keep his eyelids from fluttering like moths' wings, his limit close to expiring from the mixture of delicacy and force of Ivan's tongue. His body grew numb and eager for more and with one last lick to his shaft, every bit of composure in his body snapped, along with a cry from his vocal chords. He flopped helplessly to the ground, feeling a gentle draft upon the odd wetness below.

"I-Ivan, that was…a b-bit much," he tried to say, stumbling over grunts and pants before looking up at the Russian nation standing above him, that scarf perfectly wrapped around his neck.

The taller nation chuckled lightly, moving back to the kitchen counter to finish his morning-meal preparations. "But I needed my scarf, Arthur. Please get up from the floor: breakfast is ready."

Without so much of a vocal reply, Arthur remained on the floor, humbly basking in his own stupidity for even thinking he could get away with such a thing as _wearing Ivan's scarf around his waist_. He grumbled, annoyed at his own ignorance, before the sweet smell of well-cooked scones elevated him from his puddle of misery and up to the kitchen table; he should've realized earlier that Ivan could care less about his nudity.

~*~*~*~

_LULZ. Oh, England. Thanks for reading!!!_

_**~erbby**_


End file.
